


My Anger Swells, My Heart Falters

by unremarkablegirl



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Coda, Emotional Hurt, Ficlet, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Past Character Death, clarke faces what she's done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:22:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27388657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unremarkablegirl/pseuds/unremarkablegirl
Summary: Clarke had killed Bellamy, she had pulled the trigger and ran. She must internalize this.Excerpt: She did not deserve forgiveness. She should not be absolved. It did not matter. No matter how it was dressed up, new ideologies or not, she had made a choice, she had pulled the trigger. And for what? She saw them pick up the book as she entered the portal. Hadn’t been able to bear that, had turned her gaze instead to him, lain out on the floor, haloed in red. Absolutely hadn’t been able to bear that, had instead turned her back on him in his final moments and fled. It felt cowardly. She heaves in another breath, and another, chokes on the life in her lungs. She knows not how much time has passed, but she has run out of tears. She stares, listless, at her hands. She raises herself onto her knees.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin
Kudos: 2





	My Anger Swells, My Heart Falters

Clarke waits until everyone delves into the bowels of the bunker. She pauses at the entrance, watches as Octavia goes in one direction. She starts walking in the other direction. She keeps walking. On she goes, she knows not if it’s been seconds, minutes, hours, she refuses to think of anything. 

Her mind is blank, her eyes unseeing, on she goes, not knowing where, only knowing she must get away or she may suffocate. She keeps walking, unseeing, until she trips, falling over a gnarled root. She stares at her hands, arms outstretched, palms against the ground. She blinks, a tear falls. She blinks again, more tears, she cannot stop. Her breath is coming in fast, she cannot control it. She is shaking. She feels as though she will shake out of her skin, escape this body, escape these hands. 

She does not know how long she stays there, prostrated and heaving breath after breath, tasting salt on her lips, feeling as though she is breaking. She is breaking. She has fallen and she is shattered. How many goddamn years had Bellamy been the glue that held her together? He had been her hope, her confidante, her partner. She had killed him and destroyed herself in the process.

She did not deserve forgiveness. She should not be absolved. It did not matter. No matter how it was dressed up, new ideologies or not, she had made a choice, she had pulled the trigger. And for what? She saw them pick up the book as she entered the portal. Hadn’t been able to bear that, had turned her gaze instead to him, lain out on the floor, haloed in red. Absolutely hadn’t been able to bear that, had instead turned her back on him in his final moments and fled. It felt cowardly. She heaves in another breath, and another, chokes on the life in her lungs. She knows not how much time has passed, but she has run out of tears. She stares, listless, at her hands. She raises herself onto her knees. 

She stays kneeling, as if in an ancient ritual of supplication. Unbidden, her hands rise so that she may stare at them. She turns them over, this way and that, these hands have taken life before, but none had ever felt so important. This life taken may just be the one to destroy her. These hands have taken that life, had held the gun, pulled the trigger, had ended him. She swallow, drops her hands and raises her head.

She searches the canopy, tracing tree branches like a path. Her eyes follow them until she comes upon a gap in the trees, until she can see the sky above. Here, she searches, fervent, for a sign, for hope, for strength. She does not search for absolution. 

She knows she must go back, knows she has not been released from the duty of leadership, nor of motherhood. Still, her eyes stay locked on that tiny sliver of sky. 

Her lips part, “May we meet again.” 

She swallows, stands. No longer poised for supplication. She turns back and heads forward. 

She makes it to the bunker, watches as Indra slips out, heading towards Octavia. She makes her way in, pauses at the base when she sees Gaia, they lock eyes, neither says anything. She watches Gaia’s eyes shift, wonders what that emotion is, wonders what she must look like. 

She keeps walking, finds the first empty bunk room, sets herself down. She stares at the bars above her, daring not to close her eyes. She lays there, listless. She knows not if it’s been seconds, minutes, hours, she refuses to think of anything. 

She blinks, realizes it’s time to put herself back together. Thus, she begins the painstaking work of building up walls, of putting together plans, of ensuring her voice is steady, and her mind is organized, though it may never be clear. Inhale, exhale, control. She is ready. Madi walks in.

**Author's Note:**

> please come say hi on [tumblr](https://unremarkablegirl.tumblr.com) :)


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